The Clock Is Ticking
by Wilusa
Summary: Another series ending idea: one of many possibilities.


DISCLAIMER: Carnivale and its canon characters are the property of HBO and the show's producers; no copyright infringement is intended.

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"Ye offspring of serpents," Justin Crowe snarled, "who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?"

Ben Hawkins shuddered. _The exact same words he said in the vision Belyakov gave me, all them years ago..._

But there were significant differences between that vision and the reality. The test of the atom bomb was still hours away; Ben's psychic spying had assured him of that. He'd found Justin in the restricted area in the dead of night. If clouds had obscured the moon and stars, he might not have found him at all.

"I ain't fleein' nothin'," Ben said now. "I know what you're thinkin' - that I can't bear to face the future an' I came here to commit suicide, to let the first test o' the bomb kill me. I didn't! My physical body ain't here at all, just my spirit body. You can only see an' hear me 'cause I want you to."

"You expect me to believe that?" Justin sneered. "Ridiculous! However you found out about the bomb, you obviously know what's going to happen here. You'd have no reason to come, if not to let yourself be killed. There's nothing else you can do here. Can't stop the test, can't kill me.

"You can't do that, no matter which 'body' you're in." Ben couldn't make out the older Avatar's face by moonlight, but he could picture the smirk on it. "The only way you could obtain another anointed blade is by killing Sofie - or your son. And I know you well enough to be sure you'll never kill either of them."

"You're right about that," Ben acknowledged. "But it's the only thing you're right about.

"I didn't come here to kill myself, Justin. I came to try to _save __**you!**_ I gotta make you listen to reason before it's too late -"

"Trying to save my soul?" Justin sounded amused. "I assure you I don't want to wind up in the bland Heaven you believe in. But my soul isn't going anywhere for a good many years. And even if you could convert me, it wouldn't stop this test. So unless you expect to enjoy the blast - as I will - I'd advise you to take your 'spirit body' elsewhere.

"If it really is your spirit body. I still suspect you came here in the flesh, to die, but you didn't want me to know."

"Justin!" Ben burst out. "Listen to me! I ain't talkin' about savin' your soul. This is about your _life_."

Talking quickly, he continued, "You've believed for years that you can only die if a blade that's killed another Avatar strikes a certain place in your chest. So you're waitin' here, in your real, physical body, to 'enjoy' seein' this bomb go off at close range. To admire the destruction it causes all around you, an' congratulate yourself on havin' prompted humans to invent the damn thing. A weapon that could kill millions." He shook his head, still finding that hard to fathom.

"But Sofie an' me," he went on, "we've had visions. You've got it all wrong! For a long time, we misunderstood the prophecies too. The fact is, they said the Tattooed Man could only be killed in that one way 'cause that's how psychics over the centuries had _seen me kill you_. You weren't magically protected from dyin' in other ways. You just weren't likely to die till I killed you - a 'most probable future.' An' I killed you in the way I thought I had to.

"Then Sofie brought you back to life. Her reasons don't matter no more. What matters is that the prophecy's over an' done with. You're as hard to kill as any other Avataric Prophet - but you ain't got no special protection beyond that, never did. If you stay here, this bomb you're so happy about is gonna burn you to a crisp! An' kill you, but you'll suffer for an hour or more before the end. We've seen it."

"You're lying," Justin said coldly. "You know you can't kill me, and you think you can achieve some minor victory by frightening me - tricking me into leaving here and missing out on the culmination of my plans. You won't succeed.

"I'm surprised, though, at your coming up with such a feeble story. To begin with, you want me dead! You've always wanted me dead. So why would you be trying to save my life?"

"I've changed," Ben explained. "Sofie too. We've realized _life is sacred_.

"Belyakov - your father - meant well, but he steered me wrong. Avatars o' Light have been tryin' to kill their opposites for thousands o' years, but it was always wrong. We should o' been tryin' to win humans' minds an' hearts. Us against you - our side usin' no weapons but ideas, makin' clear our reverence for life is the key difference.

"Like I said, I understand now that life is sacred. All life - even yours."

"Balderdash," Justin said contemptuously. "I don't think you believe a word of that."

"I do! Please listen to me -"

"And besides," Justin went on, with a proud lift of his head, "I'm sure I can only be killed by an anointed blade. There have been a number of failed attempts on my life. You yourself failed on your first try, when your dagger missed the precise spot."

"What happened that time," Ben argued, "was that it glanced off a part o' your tattoo that was hardened scar tissue. You were 'protected' by scar tissue, not by magic!

"You survived some other attempts by pure luck - like when Norman Balthus's bullet hit a microphone. An' some, by your own confidence, your certainty that you couldn't be killed, havin' a hypnotic effect on your enemy. But you can't hypnotize a bomb."

He sensed rather than saw that his old adversary was glaring at him.

"I am the Lord of Shadows," Justin said huffily, "the Usher of Destruction! The most powerful of all Avatars. You're a fool if you really believe this bomb can kill me."

Ben wasn't about to give up. "Justin, you hafta get outta here!" Almost yelling now, he continued, "If I _ain't_ tellin' the truth, or I'm wrong or crazy, there's no way leavin' can hurt you. So why take a chance?"

Justin snorted, turned his back on him, and strode off. Walking toward the planned detonation site, not away from it.

Ben doggedly followed him, still talking. "Sofie an' me didn't realize you'd come here - didn't have the visions I spoke of - till it was gettin' dangerously late. An' if I know what time this damn bomb's goin' off, I'm sure you know.

"Are you listenin' to me, Justin? Another thing I know is that you ain't got a vehicle - you couldn't o' sneaked one into the restricted area. To get to shelter, on foot, you'll have to walk for hours.

"You need to start _soon._

"You need to start _**now!**_

"Please, Justin, you gotta believe me!

_**"Justin!"**_

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They walked on and on, still in the wrong direction, with Justin alternating between snapping at Ben and ignoring him. Ben knew his "voice" could only be heard in Justin's mind, but he felt as if he was talking himself hoarse.

For about the tenth time, Justin wheeled and spat out a stream of invective. He concluded angrily, "You've always been jealous because I'm a more powerful Avatar than you are. Now, since you can't build yourself up, you're trying to tear me down - convince me I'm no different from you. It won't work."

_He'd never believe the truth,_ Ben thought bitterly. _My powers are at least the equal o' his! An' I never wanted them, still don't._

There was no point in trying to convince Justin of that. By now Ben was desperate. "Okay, I admit it - you're special. You could survive things I couldn't. But you won't survive this bomb blast! The visions we've had prove it."

"Liar! If I were in danger, _I'd_ see it in visions. I wouldn't need warnings from a youngster like you - or my traitor of a daughter."

"Sofie -"

But before Ben could finish the sentence _Sofie ain't no traitor_, he felt a wrenching shock.

And when he came to his senses, it was Sofie's own face he saw, tense and anxious. She was clutching his shoulders, shaking him violently.

He was back in his chair at home.

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He managed to whisper, "I'm back." As he caught his breath, he thought, _Ain't never been so glad to see anyone in my life._

His wife said, "You're late," in a breezy voice; but her attempt at a smile was ghastly.

"I couldn't convince him," Ben mumbled as they embraced. Then he freed himself and glanced up at the clock.

"Later than it's supposed to be." Sofie sounded as drained as he felt. "I've been trying to bring you out of it for almost a half hour."

"Shit. At least there's no harm done." They'd calculated that Justin would need three and a half hours to hike out to safety. If Ben couldn't persuade him to start while he had time to make it, the merciful course would be to leave him with his illusions intact.

But now Ben looked back at the clock - and couldn't take his eyes off it. "Oh my God."

"What's the matter?"

"I-I never realized...I've been lookin' at that clock for years, hung the picture beside it myself. An' I never noticed, till this minute..."

_"What?"_

"I seen them before. Long ago, in my dreams. Same clock, same picture, same _time_."

An old-fashioned wall clock with a pendulum, the time expressed in Roman numerals. Beside it, a photo of their son - now nine years old - as a flaxen-haired baby.

The time: 2:26 a.m.

The Trinity test would take place at 5:30.

Sofie gazed up at the clock and whispered, "So that means..."

Ben said softly, "I think it means that _all_ of it - Justin's bein' there, our tryin' an' failin' to save him - was always meant to be."

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They sat quietly, holding hands, until 7:00. Ben had expected that one or both of them would have hellish visions of Justin; but he'd never known a more peaceful morning.

"Creepy," he said at last. "Could be the most important event in the history o' the world just happened, an' there ain't but a handful o' people know about it."

Sofie shuddered. "I reckon everyone will find out. All too soon."

"Yeah." He hesitated, then said grimly, "I'm goin' back. I ain't eager to see the blast site, but I gotta confirm that Justin's dead."

"He can't _not_ be dead!"

"I know," Ben acknowledged with a sigh. "But I still need the finality o' seein' him."

"You're exhausted," Sofie pointed out. "If either of us goes, it should be my turn -"

"Naw, I can do it. Projectin' to a place is easier when you're doin' it a second time." In truth, that ability had always come more naturally to him than to Sofie. It was not, after all, a "power" unique to Avatars: he'd learned from Belyakov's books that some of them could never master it, while some non-Avatars could.

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There was nothing "easy" about the next hour. But he tried to still his fears by telling himself the U.S. surely wouldn't use its horrific new weapon against another country. _We'll scare 'em with it, that's all._

_That's gotta be all._

He ended this trip of his own volition, snapping back into his and Sofie's parlor. "Found his remains," he told her at once. "Burned beyond recognition, charred. But definitely a human corpse. If it don't vanish - ascend or descend - I s'pose the military will cover it up."

Sofie was staring at him. "Ben...oh my God..."

"What's wrong? Oh shit, this again." He fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at his nose. "Nothin' to worry about, you know projectin' sometimes gives me a nosebleed -"

And then he realized why Sofie was staring. Gazing in wonderment at the handkerchief, he saw that for the first time in ten years, his blood was red.

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The End

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_**Author's Afterword:**_ This fic was my attempt to "explain" an image seen in an early vision, that never reappeared during the two aired seasons of_ Carnivale_: a ticking clock showing the time as 2:26, with a photo of a child hanging near it. Historically, the Trinity test did take place at 5:30 a.m. But in all his depictions of it, Daniel Knauf used dramatic license to place it in broad daylight. The fans who argued that the image in the vision represented nothing more than the _idea_ of a "ticking clock" were probably correct.

At the time I wrote this, I believed - wrongly - that some knowledgeable fans had learned Justin _wasn't_ meant to have any special protection from injury (the notion that Ben's blade had glanced off scar tissue). In fact, it was only at HBO's insistence that Norman Balthus's bullet had struck a microphone. Mr. Knauf had wanted Iris to find a bullet hole in Justin's cassock, proving he couldn't be harmed by a gunshot.


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